


Untitled

by crowleyshouseplant



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:58:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowleyshouseplant/pseuds/crowleyshouseplant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long separation, Zuko and Katara reunite at a dance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> for Tassja who tag requested fic for this piece

Katara saw him standing there, surrounded by people, by fire, by light, by music. His hair was longer than she remembered..

They met in the middle of the room, far from the walls where banners of red silk hung with emblems of gold flame stark against them.

Even now, years after returning home to Grandma and the young people to tell them the story of how the Avatar, their friend who had once slid with penguins across the ice, had restored balance to the world and saved it from the desolation of the Fire Nation, years after when the young kids in their village had no memory of dirty, ash stained snow to haunt their memory as it had lingered in hers as a young girl then and a woman now, Katara’s eyes still slid away from those golden emblems until they found Zuko’s face.

His smile was small, and she returned it as he held out his palm, rough and calloused, and she slipped her own hand easily in his, and he held her gently, folding his fingers between his own. “Hello,” he said, as if they had seen each other just yesterday.

“Zuko.” It was a name she had said often in her stories, and it was familiar and warm in her mouth. 

He smiled a little more. “May I?”

And she nodded so that he could pull her a little closer, his hand slipping around her waist so that it rested where her blue gown flowed to its lowest point along her back, his palm broad and warm against her skin, a steady anchor as he guided her through the dance, following the music that sometimes pushed them flush against each other, and sometimes pulled them apart, though never completely as their fingers clung to their frail bones, and their eyes never left each other.


End file.
